Disturbed Peace
by eridani
Summary: Post LR. Alanna is happily settled in her new roles as wife and King's Champion, but how long can she remain that way? Inevitably, the world intrudes. War epic, perhaps some romance later AJ or AG?...Chapter 6 is up, after three years of waiting!
1. Chapter 1

Everything but the basic plot belongs to Tamora Pierce.  
  
Chapter 1:  
  
'This is madness', thought Alanna as she gazed at the many bookkeepers stationed around her. Papers swamped every desk, nearly submerging those who worked on them. The annual treasury report was due to the King in the coming week and clerks raced to keep to their tight schedule. Quills scratched hurriedly across parchments and loose sheafs danced in the wake of hasty messengers darting from desk to desk. Through the crowd of clerks Alanna could see the King bent over a desk at the head of the hall, looking menacing. She half pitied the poor accountant who cowered behind his paper stacks. Though she wished to speak with the King, she had no desire to wade through the organised chaos spread before her. Instead she waited by the doorway, unnoticed, being reminded of why she could never have chosen the palace life.  
  
She had arrived that morning, after a long sojourn away from court and was eager to catch up with old friends. Though she loved her new life at the Swoop with George, she still missed seeing her friends on a regular basis, and to her great surprise she wanted to once again surround herself with the colourful disarray that was the city of Corus.  
  
Glancing again in the King's direction she allowed a quiet laugh to escape her. King Jonathan wore an expression of supreme frustration, and it seemed the victim of his glare was unable to appease his anger. By this stage she knew that had she been in the same situation she would surely have done something rather rash. She imagined herself backhanding the clerk or simply just walking out of the hall- perhaps even slamming the door on the way out would have vented some of the stress. But then weren't they all very good reasons why she was a knight of the field and not a courtier? She generally preferred to leave diplomacy and such to others, like Jonathan or Gary, hell, even George was more politically inclined than herself.  
  
An abrupt exclamation brought her mind back to the present, where Jonathan leant over the desk, speaking loudly with aggression at the clerk, occasionally banging the desk with an open hand to emphasise his point to the pathetic clerk. So even Jonathan was not quite the diplomat all the time. At that point he chose to look up in a gesture of frustration and caught sight of Alanna, watching on with curiosity. He acknowledged her presence with a grim smile before returning his attention to the recoiling clerk to continue his tirade.  
  
Eventually tiring of the argument he delivered a swift ultimatum to the bumbling clerk who had little choice but to agree, unless he wished to incur the wrath of the monarch.  
  
Alanna gave the King a smile that clearly read 'I'm so glad I'm not you', as he made his way towards her. He returned her smile with a wry one of his own.  
  
'Having fun?' Alanna questioned.  
  
Rolling his eyes Jonathan replied with an ironic 'Of course, sure'.  
  
'And what problems have assailed you this year?'  
  
'To tell the truth, not many actually, just the one issue I was dealing with back there. There's a great gaping hole in the spring trade records.'  
  
'During the spice merchants' trade block?'  
  
'Of course. And now we have a gods' forsaken gap in the record papers, which could have left the treasury wide open to embezzlement, fraud, theft...' the King trailed off exasperatedly.  
  
Without warning he picked up the threads of his rant again, 'How can I be expected to run this kingdom efficiently if I have incompetent scribes and an imbecile for a treasurer! Surely a week long gap in daily records would have been noticed by someone, before the annual report. It is the kingdom treasury for Mithros's sake.'  
  
Alanna, though unsure of the particulars, certainly had a good grasp of the general problem felt that this was probably her cue to give her friend some advice or at least reassurance. 'What's done is done. The records will probably never be found. Can't they use the records both before and after the gap to give a rough balance? If it was a truly large sum of money that had been taken, if any was removed at all, wouldn't it have shown up as deficit by now?'  
  
'True enough, but that's not really the root of the problem. The reports should have been properly filed in the first place. And not only that, the scribes should have noted something amiss the moment the gap appeared, rather than have it surface now, nearly five months later.' 'Well then maybe you need to have Gary look into the officers of the treasury, maybe he'll be able to weed any shifty ones out. But remember, any money that's gone would be near impossible to retrieve by now.'  
  
Alanna's common sense seemed to pacify Jonathan's temper and instead of coming back with a biting remark, he jokingly clapped her across the shoulders and remarked, 'We'll make a politician of you yet, Trebond.'  
  
A most unlady-like snort of derision came from the King's Champion as she rolled her eyes. As if that would ever happen.  
  
The two continued amiably on their way around the palace catching up on the latest news and reminiscing, remembering years that seemed far off now. They were brought back to the present however, by the sight of an anxious Myles waiting at the door of Jonathan's study. The old knight looked the same as ever- slightly dishevelled but closer inspection showed him to be still sharp as a tack.  
  
Alanna moved forward to greet her adoptive father with a hug. She was pleased to see that life with Eleni was agreeing with him, but immediately wondered why he was hovering outside the King's office.  
  
'Myles, my old friend, what are you doing standing out in the corridor?' came Jonathan's greeting.  
  
Myles however wasted no time with greeting and jumped straight to the point. 'I have important business to discuss with you. We ought to get in', as an after thought he added, 'Alanna, you had better stay too. You'll need to hear this'. He sent a pointed look to his adoptive daughter, implying that she needed to remain present, regardless of her dislike for 'state' matters.  
  
This piqued her curiosity and she readily followed them through to the study. Generally any appearances she made at state discussions had been a mere formality and it was rare that her presence was absolutely necessary- unless it was a matter of defence of the Crown or Kingdom. Something was wrong if Myles's behaviour was any sort of indicator. The usually calm and collected knight seemed impatient and certainly worried. Alanna hadn't seen him like this since the disaster of the coronation. It took a considerable amount to shake her near unflappable father.  
  
* * * * *  
  
There you have it- the first chapter. You may have a very long wait for the next, depending on how much crazier my life gets. But I'm writing as often as time allows, so you'll have to be patient with me. Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read, and a review would be much appreciated.  
  
Ciao,  
  
eridani. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 3:  
  
The three filed into Jonathan's study, the King and his Champion waiting in anticipation of the worst. Myles would not speak though, motioning for Alanna to close the door behind her. The moment the tumblers had turned however, his words seemed to fall out of his mouth.  
  
'A dispatch reached the palace this afternoon. I immediately knew it was important because it was sent directly to my office without being decoded in the network. Three days ago almost five hundred villagers in the north of Tusaine were massacred in a sudden attack from what we believe were Gallan tribesmen. The attackers wore a uniform and appeared to be under an organised command, which is most unlike the Gallans, and until this incident Tusaine had no reason to fear an attack from the north. It's practically a declaration of war. Also, among the half thousand were 20 travelling Tortallan players.'  
  
Jonathan gravely contemplated the news before tugging a bell pull, summoning a messenger boy. 'Bring Sir Gareth of Naxen immediately. It is of the highest importance; also have him bring any reports he has filed from our representatives in Galla and Tusaine from the last several months. With haste if you could- please.'  
  
The young boy backed out of the room hurriedly, leaving Jonathan, Myles and Alanna in a thick silence. Eventually, Alanna quirked an eyebrow at the King, 'Please?' she enquired, curiously. It was an unusual form of address to take with servants in the palace. Certainly, one could talk to their personal and closest employees in a more informal, friendly manner, Alanna herself never spoke to any of the staff at the Swoop with anything less than courtesy, but this was the King, and the boy had been only a runner. Her experience with Jonathan also told her that this tone was probably a new one for the King.  
  
His mouth twisted into a grim, ironic half smile, 'I try. Mostly I forget, but I do try.'  
  
Alanna shook her head as if to show disbelieving amusement, but inwardly was impressed. However, too many years of arguments and disputes about his arrogance coupled with her own stubborn pride prevented her from outwardly acknowledging this newly apparent facet of his character. She wondered what had brought it on. Thayet, maybe? She wasn't likely to take any of his crap. Perhaps marriage had indeed been a blessing for the King. Alanna knew she was certainly finding her own contentment in George. It was nice to be able to come home to a loved one, to behave like a normal couple. The home life came as a pleasant break from the previous rough and ready life she had lead. Every so often she missed that life, but she was hardly old- years of adventuring were still to come. Her train of thought took an abrupt turn and swiftly dragged her back to grim reality. She internally admonished herself for allowing her mind to wander so. Her days of carefree restfulness were probably numbered in the light of these recent developments.  
  
The concept of a war on Tortall's doorstep brought reality into an uncomfortably sharp focus. She realised that her knowledge of Galla's political history was sketchy at best. The sum of her knowledge told her Galla was a conflicted nation, made up of mostly nomads and bandit colonies. The country was large enough for it to be impossible for all the tribes and colonies to unite under the one leader. To say the country was divided was an understatement; the people of Galla had always been separated by distance and enmity and it surprised Alanna that they had managed to not only raise what appeared to be a small army, but co-ordinate any kind of attack, in fact she almost doubted the veracity of Myles report.  
  
Gary's hurried entrance at that point drew her attention to the important discussion that would inevitably take place.  
  
'Afternoon all. Right, I've brought the last 15 reports from Tusaine- they cover three and a half months. We don't get half that amount out of Galla though; I've only got four for the last year.' 'Tell him Myles,' Jonathan interrupted him abruptly.  
  
On hearing, Gary quieted and looked over at both Jonathan and Myles, 'To tell the honest truth I'm not that surprised. These reports vague though they may be have indicated a gradual drawing together of the southeastern tribes. Something has been afoot for a good while, but we have had no luck in finding out. We don't know what's bringing them all together at last or whether there is a reason for uniting.'  
  
'Do you have anything with you on the northern tribes?' enquired Myles. Gary briefly thumbed through the reports carefully scanning the pages, 'There's almost nothing here, a few casual mentions, but nothing of substance. Either there isn't enough information getting through to our men, or there is nothing of note. The northerners seem to be in same state of disarray as always.'  
  
'I thought as much. Though I don't handle every report that comes through, I have reasonably clear over view of the picture. There isn't much of anything going in or out of northern Galla. It is exceedingly difficult to get our men in and out of those lands. The mountain passes are snowed in most of the year round and the northern tribes are so distanced that an operative could search all year and find only one or two caravans. The southern highlands are far more hospitable and the tribes less sparse.'  
  
Alanna listened in silence, adding up the facts in her head. If the southern Gallan tribes were looking to unify their nation, then surely there would be bloodshed involved. Either that of Galla's own people or those of another kingdom; and there was always the distinct possibility that it would require both. Depending on how powerful the joined tribes were civil war could splinter the nation for years- decades even- or bring the remainder to terrified submission. Of course they could always bind loyalties by finding a common cause, such as fighting another nation. It was easy to inspire hatred in uneducated people (hell, even many educated people had no difficulty with the concept) and a weakened kingdom like Tusaine would be easy pickings for them. Inevitably humanity would always more easily find common ground with hate than any other cause.  
  
Tusaine had never really found its full strength since the Drell War. After King Roald's truce, Ain had let his grip slip on the people- he was too busy enjoying royalty to have a strong rule over the country- while his brothers Hilam and Jemis vied to dominate his favours and sway his power. Now Tusaine was left with little else than an uninterested king and two contentious counts. It was a wonder the country hadn't folded completely.  
  
'Do we have any inkling how Tusaine will respond? Retaliation?' Jonathan questioned.  
  
'Only that they will probably answer with a war cry of their own. Their biggest problem will be their lack of resources. They have plenty of fighting men available, but little infrastructure within their armies', Gary informed them, as Myles nodded in agreement.  
  
Jonathan considered this for a moment before coming to his conclusion. 'We wont want to put this to House- yet. The people needn't know, if it gets out that Tortallan's have died they could call for a response. For the moment we should keep this fairly quiet. What we need most is more information. Myles, how many men do we have in Galla and Tusaine now?'  
  
'Presently there are about twenty field men right across the whole of Tusaine, four of those in the capital, but they're not terribly efficient I'm afraid. Ever since Hawkson retired they have lacked organization badly. In Galla we have a definite five who move around on the highlands and another two in the mountains. We tried for a third man just over a month ago, but we lost contact while he was on his way in. We suspect he was taken out in a random bandit attack on the first pass. These men have no central contact- we tried to use the standard set up, but we quickly realised that co-ordinated liaisons could not be organised in a country where blizzards block out the sun for four or five months of the year. Instead the men send out dispatches every half year- just before the passes close and immediately after they reopen.'  
  
'Well information is our priority now. What do you need to get more?'  
  
'Primarily, a field contact- someone who can travel through both Galla and Tusaine. They'd be spending weeks and weeks on the road at a time and they'd have to be good. Very good. And have a lot of experience. They would co-ordinate the information between all the contacts and then pass on all the dispatches to a contact on the border. It'd be risky work.'  
  
* * * *  
  
This is taking heaps more time than I ever anticipated, so I might be  
slowing down the update process, but damn it, I am going to finish this  
if it's the last thing I do. As always reviews really help with the whole  
motivation thing. Hint, hint.  
  
eridani 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2:  
  
On hearing the criteria Jonathan's eye immediately flickered in Alanna's direction. She knew the glance was not really meant for her, but for George. 'No way, Jonathan', she thought vehemently, 'we haven't had enough time yet. I wanted a couple of years at least.' However her rational mind was reminding her of her own sense of duty. It was not to her to come between her husband and his duty to the Crown. Her common sense squashed her unsustainable desire for domestic bliss giving little room for argument.  
  
Knowing Alanna as he did, Jonathan could see the argument he was about to have with the Champion coming from a long way off. He would need to talk this one over with her, preferably privately to spare Myles and Gary the scene that would ensue.  
  
He looked up at Myles slowly nodding- Alanna could practically see the mechanics clicking into place in his head as he settled with the idea, 'I think I know who can help you. He's not done this kind of thing lately and may need some convincing, but he would be an ideal choice for the position.'  
  
Against her better judgement Alanna glared fiercely in the King's direction. She knew that she would have to agree in the end, but that didn't mean she had to be happy about it. Jonathan chose to pointedly ignore the daggers aimed at him and continued to address his Spymaster and Prime Minister.  
  
'I'll let you know tomorrow for certain. Meanwhile, we need to keep alert. If possible our agents need to increase their contact frequency and I want more men in the capital of Tusaine. We are going to have to wait this one out, at least until Galla's intentions are clear.' He stood behind his desk to politely and subtly indicate their dismissal.  
  
'So we meet the same time tomorrow, here again?' asked Gary as he left the weighty stack of decoded dispatches on Jonathan's desk.  
  
'That'll be fine. Here in my study.'  
  
On his way out Myles noted Alanna's hard glare and the pieces fell into place- his son-in-law was most likely going to be in-country within a couple of weeks.  
  
Alanna moved forward to stand directly in front of Jonathan's desk in what she hoped was an intimidating manner. She wasn't quite eye-to-eye but that was never going to change.  
  
'No. I know exactly what you're thinking and there's no way in hell.'  
  
This time instead of ignoring her he returned her glare in full force. This was a well-known scene for both participants- years of argumentative banter had served only to widen both their stubborn streaks.  
  
'You know perfectly well this isn't your decision to make- it's up to George.' The words came infuriatingly matter-of-fact. Until now Alanna's reasonable mind had been mostly in control of her more passion-driven half, but Jonathan's over- assured comment unleashed the outrage she was feeling at life's injustices.  
  
'Not my decision? It may not be all mine, but I sure as hell hope that I hold some weight in it- I'm only his wife after all. And what in Mithros' name makes you think George will take up in all this.'  
  
'Because I know George. He at least has a sense of duty...'He let that sentence hang allowing Alanna to fully appreciate all of it's implications.  
  
Alanna's fury at those words helped to dull the sting that would normally have come which such sayings. How could he even joke that her loyalties were questionable? The lengths she had gone to over the years for both his sake and the kingdom's made any remarks about her loyalty absolutely intolerable. Somewhere in the darker recesses of her mind a voice suggested taking backing the Dominion Jewel- which she had risked life and limb for- and throwing it in the river. Frogs would just not make an appropriate revenge after this argument.  
  
'How dare you presume to know my husband's or my loyalties!' By this stage the level of her voice had raised many decibels above the normal speaking tone and she realised she could probably be heard by anyone who chanced to walk down the corridor. She had barely opened her mouth to continue to voice her indignation when she was cut off.  
  
'You forget who you are talking to Lady Alanna. I presume because I can- or have you forgotten to whom your loyalty is sworn?'  
  
That she felt was dirty fighting. Use of such a comment was against the unwritten laws of arguing which until now had been upheld when the two fought. The King always had the upper hand in an argument, a position held by his power alone, so to keep the playing field even he usually refrained from using his birthright to his advantage. Apparently not so this time.  
  
An assortment of creative insults came to the fore of her mind and she briefly considered hurling a few of the more choice examples his Majesty's way, but pulled herself up short. She ought to hold them in reserve for need later- else she would have to resort to recycling her words, and there was no class in doing that.  
  
Her moment of restraint caused her mind to briefly step outside of herself. On one level she knew that George would have accepted had he been here- he was too honourable to do anything less. Whether he heard of it from Jonathan or her made no difference to the ultimate out come.  
  
The voice of reason seemed to be making a return, until her less rationally inspired side zealously seized the floor.  
  
When she had said she had only wanted to settle down for a short while, she hadn't quite had eighteen months in mind. In the year and a half they had been together there had been much to do between getting married and re- establishing the Swoop- not to mention participating in the gargantuan affair that was the royal wedding. So much to do in fact that they had had precious little time to simply enjoy one another's company. She railed against the unfairness of it all. How dare the rest of the world impose on her carefully constructed life?  
  
'In the end it was George's decision' she reminded herself. She had the feeling that if Galla and Tusaine were at each other's throats then her time of peace and relaxation would be over regardless. Alanna was almost ready to reconcile their differences until she looked back up at Jonathan. He had taken her momentary pause to evaluate the situation as a sign of defeat and had his angry, over-confident, you-know- I'm-right face on and her anger stirred once again. It reminded her afresh of his last comment and she decided she would allow him no concessions in this argument.  
  
'Forget it' she announced flatly, not budging. The frustration surrounding the King was becoming almost tangible. She watched stonily as he resumed his seat and regarded her with flashing eyes.  
  
'Alanna, regardless of your wishes George will be in my study tomorrow morning- come hell or high water- to discuss this with me. That's final. How he finds out is up to you. You can wait until one of my heralds drags him in here, or you can tell him about it yourself tonight. Either way he will find out.'  
  
Alanna searched for something to say and found herself grasping at straws. Jonathan had the upper hand and no matter how unfair she found the whole scenario, she had lost this one. That annoyed her- greatly. She had reached the point where she could easily justify loosing her sharp tongue.  
  
'Quite frankly I don't care for either option, your Majesty,' she returned coolly, before raising her voice heatedly, not caring who heard, 'you can take your gods damned proposition and stick where the sun does not shine for all I care.'  
  
Here she thought it an appropriate opportunity to enact her earlier daydream and quick marched straight out the room throwing her final statement over her shoulder and slamming the door, leaving it shuddering in her wake. At the time she really couldn't have given a rat's arse about being polite or diplomatic, king or no.  
  
She knew Jonathan well enough to safely bet that he was less likely to come after her than sit and brood angrily at his desk. If she avoided him long enough she might even manage to escape with little more than a slap on the wrist for her behaviour. It was clear, even to her that she had most definitely stepped, more like taken a running leap, over the line with her parting remarks. But that knowledge failed to dull the glowing, if somewhat juvenile satisfaction she gained from them.  
  
Alanna stalked down the wide corridor to her apartments paying no heed to the looks she received for her blatantly uncurbed anger. Some, mostly less experienced servants, were obviously startled by the fuming woman, while those more familiar with her temper hid knowing looks and steered well clear of her path.  
  
She hastily threw together her bag of necessities and prepared to leave. Her abrupt departure after only arriving that morning would raise eyebrows amongst some of the courtiers but that mattered little to her. She wanted to come and go as she pleased, irrespective of the gossip at court. This evening she would ride for Pirate's Swoop and George. The least she could do was give her husband the heads up before Jonathan hit him with such news.  
  
* * * * * What did you think? My main goal is to be creative with the characters (and maybe write them in a more realistic way), but without getting TOO 'creative'... you know? So if you think I'm over stepping the bounds of character let me know. And, no, I don't care whether you flame, abuse or whatever- feedback of any kind rocks my kazbaa.  
  
Anyway, give me a bit of time to write and you'll have more soon,  
  
eridani. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:  
  
The lengthy ride south was miserable. It had been unseasonably wet and a damp evening mist and drizzle had pervaded Alanna's riding gear from the time she had left the city walls. Her discomfort was only heightened when she reached the coastal stretch by a thick soup-like sea haze that obscured all that lay more than three feet from her face. The only comfort to be found in this was that the Swoop could not have been far. Even after only a year of residence at the Swoop, the briny tang of the sea air was already a familiar reminder of home.

The weather only served to sour Alanna's already volatile mood and by the time Darkmoon clattered under the keep gateway she resembled something akin to a storming thundercloud. Only the gods could have saved anyone who came between her and warm shelter.

Dismounting and unsaddling hastily, she weighed the options before her: a warm bath and dry clothes or finding George. She mentally excused her self from finding George under the pretext that she had returned earlier than anticipated and need not bother him yet, and set a direct course for the baths. In the back of her mind a diminutive faceless voice pointed out that she was avoiding the problem of breaking the news. She conveniently chose to ignore it.

Later that evening, once sufficiently warmed and dried, she found herself seated at the long hall table trying to enjoy a much belated supper while George casually sipped wine opposite her. He was studying her carefully, trying to determine the cause of her obvious discomfort. She had avoided the issue long enough by now, chatting about every other topic she could summon to conversation, and she felt that she owed George the reason for her considerably frenetic behaviour. Setting down her knife and fork she cast about for a suitable introduction.

'I don't suppose you've had contact with any of your men since... this-,' Alanna trailed off, gesturing to imply their situation, respectability, the Swoop- everything that wasn't of the old court of the Rogue, 'Of course, I don't expect you to sever all your ties with the Rogue. They can prove most useful at times. You know I wouldn't ever ask you to do that...' She rambled, procrastinating, wanting to spare herself from delivering the news that would disturb her pleasant life.

George raised a sceptical eyebrow, a little bewildered at his wife's most abnormal behaviour. 'You're pansying about, Love. Spit it out.'

_ 'Well, then. Here goes.'_

'His Majesty,' Alanna mockingly gave the title a sarcastic inflection, 'wants to send you to Galla.'

'And?' George prompted her, waiting for more information.

'Well, not so much _to_ Galla, as _into_ Galla. He wants someone to re- establish the espionage network there.'

'And that someone is to be me?'

'That's how his Majesty sees it.'

The news was a shock but at the same time not entirely unexpected. George had heard whispers of strange going-ons from Tortall's northern neighbour. Stories of a bandit force strong enough to decimate entire villages and caravans, and a new younger power emerging- in short, stories that had him worried.

He had however not anticipated being involved and was surprised by Jonathan's choice. He silently indicated for Alanna to continue.

  
George's departure the next morning was early. After hearing his wife's full account of her afternoon, he resolved to set out for Corus as soon as possible in an attempt to head off the irate summons that would surely be sent his way if he delayed. The ride north gave him plenty of time to consider his options. The previous evening he had made it clear, despite Alanna's half-hearted protestations that he would take up the post in Gallan territory. He could clearly see how potentially sinister the situation could become and saw and understood Jonathan's position on the matter with less bias than his wife.

If there were anyway in which he could offer his services then he would do so. Jonathan had held reign for a brief eighteen months and a smattering of uncertainty still lingered amongst the people. The aftermath of the previous year's famine had stretched the shaken kingdom, forcing many feudal concepts out as starving people demanded reform, and though Jonathan had successfully juggled the interests of all concerned, the misfortunate commencement of the King's reign had cast a shadow of doubt over the Crown.

A year and a half in and Jonathan still needed all the support he could get if he was to establish a confident rule. Possibly the worst thing that could happen was the threat of war with neighbours- a possibility that loomed uncomfortably close. George was prepared to go to great lengths if it meant Tortall would have the advantage in what was certain to be trouble brewing. If that meant a potentially very dangerous assignment in a place far from home then so be it. He didn't have to like it, but someone needed to the job.

Perhaps on some level George conceded that maybe he was just a little flattered that he had been requested, but the strongest driving force in his head was patriotic duty. After all, there were only so many things in this world that could drag a husband from his newly made wife. A newly made wife that seemed to be putting up a hell of a fight.

When Alanna had finally recounted the details of her meeting with the King, the hinted disregard for royalty has not escaped his notice. There was no mention of how the King and Thayet were going- nothing but pure business. Sometimes the things she didn't say said more than what she did. It seemed fairly obvious to him that Jonathan and the Champion had not parted on anything remotely resembling good terms. Whether it had been frosty silence or slamming of doors and yelling George didn't care to guess, but either way the King was most certainly not on his wife's good side.

He himself had been on that receiving end of Alanna's wrath once or twice and easily empathised with Jonathan. Alanna was not know for her subtlety and had probably had no qualms about letting anyone in the general vicinity know exactly what she thought of him. But somehow the tiffs between King and Champion seemed to blow over, given the right time apart, and George was sure this would too- in time.

The long ride passed quickly has he contemplated the situation and he found himself riding beneath the southern gates of Corus. The bustling city streets were just the same as they had been three or four years ago. Still a rapidly moving press of bodies, horses and carts. Colours and shapes moving in and out of vision while undiscernible voices occasionally rose out above the ambient buzz. Merchants and traders bargained in fast insistent conversations, the rich sashayed about the place followed by trains of costly silk and furs, trailing large entourages while the poor hurried to get out of their way. On the odd corner an infirm beggar would rattle his tin and spangled gypsy women hugged small children to their breasts. Above the street a too young girl with heavy rouge and scanty clothing leant out of the window of a bordello watching the hive of people wander by.

In George's experience cities were all very much the same. No matter how cultural or enlightened a city may pretend to be, underneath the gold, the spices, the universities and museums, the bottom end of society never changed. The poor never got richer, the cutthroats never stopped killing and the prostitutes kept on whoring. These people held up the rest of the city- there could be no nobility if there were no poor.

George liked them.

In the near distance the Palace sat regally atop the northern hills of the city. Tall spires and high stonewalls for keeping the poor out. He had often wondered if they weren't really for keeping the rich in. Either way, the Palace still made for an impressive sight.

Riding through the streets he had grown up on, George toyed with the idea of visiting the Dove and dropping by his mother's house, before remembering Eleni could now be found in her new Palace apartments- somewhere near Sir Myles's rooms. Deciding the Dove and its patrons would have to wait, he rode on directly to the Palace, and after stabling his somewhat weary horse made his way to the Royal study.

A/N: Wow, it's been a long time since I updated. But it's here now and hopefully I get a couple of more decent updates up while this motivating burst lasts. Unfortunately there isn't much happening in this chapter, but I wanted to play around with George's mind first. It's all a bit experimental; because I don't feel I have a very good feel for his inner workings. So any and all comment on George's characterisation is welcomed- well, any feedback is welcomed, but you know... The plot will advance faster next chapter. Hopefully George will be on his way by the end of next chapter. Don't worry there is plenty in store for Alanna too, but her part gets exciting later on. I've been writing ahead in some parts, and I've thought out a dozen scenarios at least. Any suggestions may help with the clearing up the future plot... wink, wink, nudge, nudge. 

ciao eridani xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Alanna awoke to find herself too spread out in her bed and wondered why there was no second body to warm the cold sheets. In the dimmed light and sound of the early morning she remembered hearing whispered assurances and goodbyes as the familiar weight lifted from the bed beside her.

Her sleep clogged brain shed itself abruptly of its mental fog when she remembered the reason for George's departure. Waves of different emotions passed through her as she remembered the previous days events. Missing George; angry with Jonathan; worry for the future; missing George. Sitting up in bed she glanced around the diffused light of George's chambers, wondering when she could expect him back from Corus. The masonry walls were hidden by drapes and tapestries and the nightstand neatly displayed practical reminders of daily life, reminders of her husband. The shafts of light that spilled across the floor were tinted rosy from the narrow lead light windows, slits of colour against the dark granite of the flagstone floor. The first leaves of autumn would soon fall but the bedchambers were still spacious and airy, not cluttered by the furs and rugs that would soon be required to keep the cold at bay. Alanna could faintly hear the sound of breaking surf that was carried by the offshore sea breeze, while outside the high defensive walls glowed terracotta pink in the rising sun's light. It would be a fine day- the kind where it seemed the sun was trying to hold on to summer a little longer.

The bedchamber walls seeped cold from behind the concealing drapes.

In her year and a half at the Swoop, Alanna had established a morning routine that both physically and mentally prepared her for her day. When she was unable to complete it she was left with _that_ nagging sensation, which left her testy and irritable all day. Had she forgotten something? Was something missing? It was simple enough: rise; dress; retrieve sword from armoury; begin swordsmanship drills on the northwest parapet wall overlooking the coastline; change to Shang sequences; rest and think on battlements; return to the keep to bathe; breakfast in the dining hall. Her morning drills were more important than just simply allowing her to keep her skills sharp. They afforded her the time to simply enjoy the early morning silence of the Swoop and liberated her thoughts. She used it as a form of mediation, a way to clear her mind before the day's concerns could bother her.

This morning however, the repetitive movements did not clear her mind or settle her thoughts. Myles's disturbing information from the previous day, Jonathan's angry words and George's quiet worry ricocheted against the insides of her skull. If Tortall were to be involved in a war with Galla, Alanna wondered what part she might play. As yet her role as King's Champion was untested, merely a formality, but if a call to arms was sounded, what would she be expected to do. Remembering the Tusaine War from her girlhood, or perhaps it was her boyhood, she tried to recall Duke Gareth's responsibilities, before realising he had spent a great deal of time infirm, suffering from a badly broken leg. That particular incident still made her uncomfortable and the healer in her shuddered at the memory of the sickening crack the Duke's leg had made when he hit the ground.

The uneasiness that had set upon her in the morning remained with her all day as a disquiet in the back of her mind. She could not shake the feeling of impending trouble and George's return later that evening justified her doubts.

The troubled look on George's face when he rode into the courtyard told her enough. He too was concerned by the recent events and would soon become an active participant in the game of war.

They ate dinner in near silence and did not discuss the meeting between George and the King, or George's impending departure. It was not until much later as Alanna sat at the same dresser she had been observing earlier that morning, readying herself for bed, that the topic was raised.

'I'm going to go.' The statement was blunt and hard around the edges, but said softly.

'I know.' Simple and matter of fact, to conceal her disappointment and bitterness at fate's injustices.

'I'll miss this'

'Where are they sending you?'

'I don't know yet. I'll be going through Tusaine first- it all depends on what I find there.'

Finally Alanna asked the question she had been dreading all evening. 'When do you leave?'

'Tomorrow.'

Alanna sharply turned to face her husband. 'Tomorrow?' She had been expecting a week, or a couple of days at the very least. Not tomorrow. 'But that's so soon.'

'It's four day's hard riding to the eastern boarder. They want me there as soon as possible.'

Moving to the bed she said nothing. Warring Gallans were not going to wait; it was imperative for George to get as much information as humanly possible before they brought the war to Tortall's gates. Deliberately blocking out the dangers she knew he would have to face, she lay down and starred at the ceiling, tracing patterns in the stonework.

George's warm arm slipped around her shoulders and pulled her to him. Together they stayed that way, silent and unmoving until eyes closed, heavy with sleep. On the nightstand the candle burned down and flickered out, leaving wisps of smoke to dance in the still night atmosphere.

* * *

Daybreak dawned grey and damp the next morning and Alanna tried not to think of it as a grave omen. In the fuzzy half-light of the dawn hours she watched George, ingraining his every feature in her mind's eye. Measured the span of his chest: elbow to fingertips and then some. Counted his eyelashes: 212 in total; joined-the-dots between the sun-endowed freckles on his forearms. As the sunlight crept down the wall and onto the floor, she became conscious of a change in her husband's breathing and realised he now watched her too.

In her thoughts she questioned George's chances. At best he would be gone for a very long time, at worst...well, she didn't want to think about that. Hands manoeuvred her body more fully a top his and as she silently kissed him she did her best to push the unwelcome thoughts from her head.

* * *

After a subdued breakfast Alanna rode with him as far as the junction with the Great South Road. Short words were exchanged but both parties understood each other clearly. Gruff as ever in emotional situations, she did not allow herself to tear up, and as she watched him leave she refused to let the word goodbye slip from her tongue.

**A/N:** I know, I know, I promised a faster moving chapter... but I'm still not happy with my characterisation of the main players, so I wanted to fiddle with them some more. Forgive any tampering that may have occurred within the characters, but it has been years since I actually read the books. My memory may have blurred considerably since then, so feel free to criticise any out-of-character-ness that may be going on.

I would apologise to all the readers out there who may have wanted this chapter update to happen a hell of a lot faster, but that would be useless. You're only supposed to apologise for something if you're going to try your best not to let it happen again, but I can tell you now, don't hold your collective breaths for the next update, it will not be for awhile I think.

I have finally made a decision on the issue of pairing: It will be neither one way nor the other. I think I'm going to take a neutral approach to both. Yeah, I know that last chapter wasn't so neutral... but hopefully by the end of the story both will have equal standing. I promise I'm going to try to make it interesting.

razzberrycat: Thanks for the nudge. To tell the truth, it was your review that actually made me think about getting on with this piece, so again, thank you.

squishysquashy: Did you get the email? Have fun with those stories and let me know when you decide what you're going to do with them. BTW: If I've gone to all the trouble of updating, I think you should too. Can't wait to see more of War of Love.

Samhain 13: Thanks for the considerate review. Does George still live up to your standards now that I've fiddle some more?

FaithfuLightning: Thank you for the regular reviews! Umm... Numair is still in Carthak, I think. The story is set around eighteen months after LR, so use that as a guide- my Immortals trivia isn't really up to scratch.

And thanks to everyone else who reviewed in the previous chapters. Expect another update sometime before the end of the year-

_x eridani._


	6. Chapter 6

It's such a surprise to find myself writing this again, after three years of neglect. I admit in the last couple of years my creative writing skills have been abandoned entirely, so if the story starts to read like an essay, I apologise. Feel free to point out anything that doesn't sit right in reviews. I do hope some of the readers who initially stuck with this story might get a chance to read this update. Enjoy.

Chapter 6 

Autumn drizzle dampened the streets of Corus as a non-descript carriage made its way along the winding avenue towards the royal palace. Within its confines, being jostled with every bump across the cobblestones, sat four grim faced men. Their respectable manner of dress and aristocratically trimmed beards seemed at odds with their drab mode of transportation, while documents and maps sprawled in all directions across their laps as they rode in silence.

At the palace gates, a guard stepped into the rain to halt the carriage and peered suspiciously through the door to inspect the passengers' faces.

'What business do you have at the Palace?'

'We wish to obtain an audience with the King,' replied the oldest of the four.

'I cannot allow you to enter on those grounds alone. Does the King expect your visit?'

A pause filled the carriage and the four men exchanged glances.

'The King does not expect our arrival, no, but perhaps this will give you cause to reconsider.' The spokesman of the four men extended a gnarled, but well-jewelled hand from behind the pile of parchment, which the guard examined. The signet ring worn on the gentleman's fourth finger was familiar to the guard who had previously seen duty in the Tusaine War.

'I assure you,' spoke the unknown gentleman, 'we come with good intentions and must speak urgently with the King'. The signet bearing the crest of the royal house of Tusaine was hurriedly withdrawn again into the folds of his cloak, while the guardsman nodded in understanding.

'Open the gates!'

The heavy wooden panels groaned as they were parted and the carriage, with its curious passengers, trundled into the palace grounds.

* * *

Shortly afterwards, Jonathan was interrupted in his study by knock at the door. Gary entered, followed by four robed strangers, much to Jonathan's surprise. 

'You'll have to forgive my abruptness, but I bring with me Counts Griffid, Westebb, Yonge and Grieves of Tusaine. I believe you'll want to hear what they've come to say.'

'It has been many years since Tortall has had the honour of receiving a delegation from Tusaine,' Jonathan chose his words carefully, still unsure what to make of the newcomers. 'Might I ask why you are not joined by the Count of Danne, the official Ambassador?'

'We come in the greatest secrecy, without the knowledge of the Ambassador or the King,' spoke Count Griffid, the most senior of the men before Jonathan. 'King Ain's court is faltering and we do not believe it will withstand troubles that are soon to come. The King himself is indifferent and poorly prepared for what we believe will soon develop into war. Furthermore, the loyalty of the nobility cannot be counted upon should a crisis unfold. The rivalry between Jemis and Hilam has divided the court and there are more nobles waiting for an opportunity to overthrow the King than are ready to defend the throne should war come to our doorstep.'

'These troubles you refer to- do you believe war with Galla is inevitable?'

'Almost certainly. It seems simply to be a matter of time. The signs of aggression from the north become more apparent day by day. Gallan tribesmen have begun patrolling our borders and increasingly frequently infringe our territory. Something must be done, and yet his Majesty choses to ignore it. We come to ask Tortall's assistance against Galla when the time of need arises.'

'Tortall owes nothing to Tusaine,' interjected Gary, 'why should we help you? Your country has been indebted to us since the Drell Valley war. Surely you cannot expect such a commitment from us.'

'The Drell Valley incident was highly…regrettable, and we understand the imposition Tusaine makes by asking for such an alliance, but it is ultimately in Tortall's best interests to do so. Surely you can appreciate the importance of Tusaine's continued resistance to Galla in the event of conflict.' Griffid moved to a large map hanging on the wall of Jonathan's study and ran a finger along the black line which demarcated the southern boundary of Galla. 'The narrow border you share with Galla is mountainous and difficult to pass. At least half of the year, the mountain passes are closed, providing you with a natural barrier between your lands and Gallan armies. To the east, over Tusaine, the border is more porous. Fewer mountains and wider plains make for an easier crossing.' Griffid's finger fell further south, sweeping across the shared Tortall-Tusaine border. 'Here, the Hill Country is an easy avenue for any invading army.' Griffid paused, and turned to directly address Jonathan once again, full of seriousness. 'In short, your Majesty, if Tusaine falls, Galla will have an open highway to Tortall's territories.'

Jonathan could see the man's point. Tortall needed a strong buffer between itself and Galla, and if Tusaine could not independently act as that bulwark, Tortall would be required to prop its neighbour up. He looked down from the map and addressed his Prime Minister. 'It seems events are accelerating more rapidly than we thought. Don't call the war council together yet, however. I'd like to make some subtle inquiries into the readiness of our army before we make this knowledge public.' Gary nodded in understanding and ushered the Tusaine dignitaries out of the royal study, leaving Jonathan alone to ponder the difficult situation before him.

* * *

Alanna flicked sweat out of her eyes as her opponent backed away for a moment's rest. The blunt training blade flashed in the afternoon sunlight as she lowered it and let her guard down. Since her arrival at the Swoop, she had found there to be no shortage of young men from the nearby village who were willing to challenge her to a mock duel and she was happy to allow it. The regular spars kept her in shape when she was away from the palace training courts. On this particular occasion her opponent was a very tall redheaded male who seemed to be on that awkward cusp of childhood and manhood. He showed good potential as a swordsman, though was relatively untrained. He hadn't yet learned to use his height to his advantage, his gangly frame being more of difficultly of coordination than an asset. Despite this, Alanna had no doubt he could be very good given proper training. 

As she sipped from a water flask she noticed puffs of dust tracing a line across the hill at the horizon- the telltale sign of an approaching horseman. Within minutes the horseman had rounded the corner of the flagstone courtyard she trained in, the rider dismounting in front of her.

'A message from Sir Gareth of Naxen, my Lady. He sad it was urgent.'

Alanna took the folded parchment and excused herself from her match, trying to wipe the sweat from her hands. Urgent communiqués from Gary were highly unusual and probably meant trouble.

_Alanna,_

_Events have taken an interesting turn since we last talked, and your presence in Corus would be most useful. After your last encounter with His Majesty, I understand your reluctance, but recent happenings are going to force a peace settlement upon the two of you, I'm afraid. We hope to see you soon,_

_Gary._

Alanna rolled her eyes in bemusement at Gary's cryptically worded summons. His letter practically bulged with the unsaid. Something was clearly afoot in Corus, and Gary deemed it important enough to bypass Jonathan's authority and summon her himself. Gary was a politically astute man whose intuition for these intrigues tended to be correct. It seemed her stay at the Swoop was to be brief after all.


End file.
